Given the prevalent illiteracy, Pitara seems like a drop in the ocean. And yet, even drops create ripples. Listen to Mohanmati, an 85-year-old woman of Gadgodi village, Bilaspur district, Chhattisgarh: "My daughter’s father-in-law, the local postman, is the first person to read my copy of Pitara. It then goes to his daughter-in-law. After she has read it, she gives it to her husband, he to his brother, and only then I get to see my copy." For the team at Nirantar, the bimonthly is at the frontline of the debates raging around the Right to Information Act. "Such an act is meaningless if it’s only for a few in the metros filing affidavits. Pitara’s all about the politics of knowledge, the politics of information: what kind of knowledge? And who is able to access it," says Malini Ghose. "Funding is a constant struggle," says Farah Naqvi, "as is finding suitable distribution channels. For our poor, rural readership, there’s simply no culture of subscription." Pitara’s strength lies not in the fact that its readership is 30,000, but that this figure is qualitatively varied—including neo-literates, teachers, activists, rickshaw pullers, college students and those learning Hindi as their second language. A feminist magazine that’s not just read by women; a magazine produced in Delhi that’s not just targeted at urban readers.